The case had started very innocently. A client had asked them to locate the missing cook, being more concerned about the woman's well being than about her possible indiscretions. However, before Laura knew it, the Steele Agency was chasing a maniac who had stolen several million dollars worth of diamonds and was ready to kill to get away with it. Now she and Remington were trapped in an abandoned warehouse. He was hiding nearby, waiting for the police to arrive, but she hadn't been so lucky. Her hiding place had been discovered.

The man's index finger tightened on the trigger and Laura braced herself, preparing to meet the bullet. Suddenly, a pile of crates by her side burst into the air as Remington jumped out from beneath them, putting himself between her and the man with the gun.

Three shots went off, one after another; then sirens blared outside and a voice, amplified by a megaphone, shouted something. But Laura saw and heard none of it; all she could see was her husband lying at her feet with three bullet holes in the chest.

Sirens wailed in distance as Laura kept repeating, "Stay with me... Remington, please, stay with me..."

And the pain, which had started deep in Remington's chest, was growing, growing, growing until he couldn't bear it anymore. The pain was so sharp that he wanted to get up and run away - to do whatever it took just to leave his pain-torn body behind.

With great difficulty, Remington took his eyes off the light and focused on the shapeless shadows which suddenly appeared before him, each one just a shade lighter than the fog surrounding them. The voice seemed to be coming from one of the shadows.

He stopped, unsure of what to say. Who was he, indeed, in this strange place where names - especially assumed names - meant very little?

"What are you doing here?" another voice asked from the direction of the second shadow.

"I'm not sure..." Remington finally mustered.

"They're all here for the same reason," the first voice reproached.

"We were expecting a woman," the second one complained.

"Yes, we were," the first one reluctantly agreed. "His wife."

"What are we going to do?"

Remington watched as the two clouds merged into a big ball, swishing and swooshing in a language only they could understand.

Finally, they separated and the first voice said, "Mr. Steele, it's an unexpected surprise to see you here. We must admit, we aren't prepared."

"Your presence here is obviously a mistake," the second voice explained.

"Well, send me back, then," Remington suggested quickly.

"Such things aren't allowed," the first voice said as it again took over. "Not all mistakes can be corrected. To amend the situation, however, we've decided to let you go back into your past and change one thing."

"But not just any thing," the second voice added. "You can't change what was done to you; you can only change your own actions."

"We don't guarantee you that your life will be longer, or better, or happier, though," the first voice said. "Nor will you know how it'll turn out until your choice is final. We're only giving you another chance. Make your choice."

"I'll talk Laura out of taking that case," Remington said quickly. "Or better yet, I'll take her on vacation even before she learns about the case."

The mental images of the Agency being closed down for a week and a nice, relaxing time spent in Catalina with Laura went through his mind. Yes, exactly, that was what he would do - he would just take her away. There would be no clients, phones, or interruptions - just the two of them on a romantic island.

"We understand your choice, Mr. Steele," the first voice said with some difficulty. "And the rule that you won't know the outcome of your decision still applies. However, in this particular case, we'll make an exception. You should know what your future will be if you make this choice."

The two shadows merged again and on their surface, Remington saw the inside of a helicopter, the scared face of a pilot yelling something into the microphone, the helicopter falling downwards, fire, debris, and himself crying over Laura, who looked at him with unseeing, dead eyes...

He recalled the events of his earlier years, when he had been unloved, unwanted, and underfoot. Then there were numerous times he had run away from what others had called his home and wandered the streets, dirty and hungry. And then he had met Daniel... No, there wasn't anything worth changing in his earlier days - nothing that he had done, anyway.

He then thought back to his days with Daniel, his grips of wanderlust, his numerous cons and even more numerous women. It was all now a blur, boring and mundane, but there was nothing worth changing. Nothing there was worth living it again, either.

He remembered the Lavulite and the trip to San Francisco that had completely changed his life... Maybe he shouldn't have gone after the gems - maybe he should have joined Daniel in that scam he'd been running at the time. As he recalled now, it had been a rather successful operation. Afterwards, he probably would have gone to the South of France for a couple of months and spent them in a company of some European beauty before leaving for yet another con... and he would have never met Laura...

He didn't want to live his life again if there was no Laura in it.

All he had to do was choose one action to change and he'd have the chance to begin his life anew. So, what could he do differently?

Perhaps he should have admitted he didn't know his real name when she'd asked him. But she had asked him so many times - which time should he choose? Should he have told her when they came back from the Devil's Playground? No, they hadn't been alone then; that wouldn't have been a good time. Perhaps later, when he'd suggested a full minute of total honesty over "The Lovers" sculpture? Or maybe when they'd been getting ready to transport the Lavulite to Los Angeles? Would she have believed him then? Perhaps, perhaps not. And even if she had, he doubted it would have changed anything, since it hadn't changed anything when she eventually had learned the truth.

Remington closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.

He decided that he should have told her about his feelings. Instead of coming up with elaborate ruses, instead of sending her bushels of flowers with some poorly written, obscene notes, he should have simply held her close and told her how much he loved her, how much he cared for her, how much she meant to him. He should have told her all those words she longed to hear, all those words he had being afraid to say for so long.

He imagined what it would have been like to take Laura in his arms and to give her a little honesty, a verbal commitment. Indeed, it would have seemed like heaven - but would it really have done either of them any good? As much as he had wanted to get closer to her in those early days, he realized that neither of them had been ready for a serious relationship then. He had not been ready to fully commit and she had not been ready to accept such a commitment.

They would have consummated their relationship and enjoyed a quick bliss, but then shortly after the novelty wore off, they probably would have suffocated each other. Unable to live with each other, they wouldn't have been ready to give up and go their separate ways, either. They would have ended up torturing each other, instead.

Cannes had been a disaster. He would tell Laura about Henri's problem. But... she would never have agreed to him helping his friend in such an unorthodox way, and he would have done it anyway, and the disaster would have turned into a typhoon - twenty balls on the ten-ball scale, at least. Unless... unless he told Henri that he couldn't help him... No, even during the worst days of his and Laura's business-only agreement, he had never for a moment regretted his decision to help his friend and he knew he would do it again.

Besides, stealing the dagger wasn't the root of the problem. As much as Laura had wanted to pretend she was angry because he'd risked her Agency's reputation, she'd really gotten angry because she'd found Joelle in his room on the very night Laura had decided to consummate her relationship with him. He should have taken Laura to her room, instead of his...

Remington realized there wasn't much he could do about Cannes, either. Consummating their relationship wouldn't have solved anything and neither would telling Laura the truth. Even though the months following Cannes had sometimes seemed to be the worst time of his life, they had still helped him to put some things in perspective. No, he wouldn't change anything about Cannes.

Strangely enough, though, it had been the complete fiasco in London that had made him feel more comfortable being Remington Steele. Laura being in London with him from the beginning wouldn't have made much of a difference. And at the same time, if she hadn't shown up when she did, it was likely that both he and the Earl of Claridge would have been killed. No, it didn't make much sense to change anything about his trip to London.

But there was another thing he could change, and it seemed like the perfect choice. He should have proposed to Laura instead of staging that farce with Clarissa. He didn't even have to tell her the entire truth. He knew that would never work; he would have wished he were dead as soon as she would have found out why he'd proposed. He had little doubt she would have learned the truth sooner or later; his lovely partner had a knack at unearthing his little secrets.

No, he should have told her about his problems with Immigration. A little honesty, a diamond ring, "Will you marry me, Laura?" - and he would have been legally married to the woman he loved... a woman who would never believe how much he really wanted to be with her... a woman who would always wonder if he would have proposed if he hadn't been afraid of deportation... He would have been married, but he'd never have known if she had married him because her Agency was in danger or because she loved him... No, he didn't want to have such a marriage.

Remington recalled all the events of their crazy honeymoon - arriving at that seedy little hotel, leaving Laura there as collateral, hiding Keyes' body in the tent... But even though their honeymoon hadn't been the enjoyable experience they both hoped it would be, it had still been a honeymoon to remember. It had given them a lot of funny memories, once the pain and the frustration had subsided.

Then there was Daniel to consider... He had always wished there was something he could have done to keep Daniel with him longer. It would have been wonderful to have spent more time together as father and son - and to actually learn his real name, to boot. Yes, he'd go back and not get angry with Daniel - he wouldn't yell at him and wouldn't throw the watch; he'd just accept the fact that his friend and mentor was also the father he'd never known he had. Then they could spend Daniel's remaining hours together.

But on second thought, hadn't he and Daniel spent twenty years together? And Laura didn't care about his real name anymore, and because she didn't, neither did he. And even more importantly, without that outburst of anger that had cost him his last hour with his father, he would have never been able to show Laura how he felt for her.

It had been a mere two months since he and Laura had returned from Ireland, but how wonderful those months had been! After their first few nights together, it seemed as though the final pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. The walls they had erected between them had collapsed and they'd become united in every sense of the word. They had lived together, worked together, played together, and loved together. They had even bought a nice little townhouse, an act that just a few months earlier would have scared both of them, but now, hadn't even caused an argument. They hadn't even moved there yet...

Sure, he and Laura still had their little spats, but they only spiced up their relationship. Remington had been truly happy those two months - and he was sure Laura had been, too.

No, not just those for two months. His life may have been short, but he had been happy to live it the only way he had known how. There was nothing he could possibly change that could have made it any better... Nothing he could gain was worth sacrificing the years he had spent with Laura... Nothing could have been better than those two last months they had spent together...

Well, there was one more thing; he didn't even want to think about it, but perhaps it would be the right choice. Perhaps his decision to change nothing was just a sign of weakness, an easy way out. After all, it took more courage to live after losing a loved one than it did to die protecting them.

He knew his life would have stopped the moment he lost Laura, and in his heart, he knew she felt the same way about him. Perhaps he should have convinced Laura to go to Catalina, even though it would have meant living with the consequences. He would have to live the rest of his life knowing that in one final act of mercy, he had killed the only woman he had ever loved. But would it be selflessness on his behalf - or selfishness?

He didn't know. He only knew one thing - he had given his life for Laura once before and he would do it again as many times as needed, even if it meant he had to leave her. So be it...

"I don't want to change anything," he said firmly.

"I'm sure," he said firmly.

"What are we going to do?" the second voice asked.

After another long period of silence, the first voice said, "Let him go."

Then the light far ahead of him moved further and further away, the two shadows grew dimmer and dimmer until they were undistinguished from the dark background, and the pain that had long ago left his body came back and started tearing every cell, pain so sharp that he wanted to scream, yell, shout, fight, do whatever it took just to chase it away from his torn, tortured body...

Laura, however, didn't let him dawdle. She led him into the bedroom, sat him on the edge of the bed, and said, "You need to rest while I make us some lunch. Here, let me help you." She kneeled down to untie his shoes, as the task would be too painful for him.

Silently, he looked around, confused by what he saw. Laura's clothes were scattered about and a pair of her leather slingbacks had been carelessly tossed in the direction of the closet.

When his shoes were removed, he pulled her up, asking, "Did you live here while I was gone?"

He had assumed she'd moved back into the loft during his hospital stay, but he'd never asked; she had practically lived at the hospital, anyway. After all, her lease hadn't expired yet and most of her things, including the piano, were still there until their townhouse was ready. It was also closer to the hospital, so it would have been sensible for Laura to have moved back temporarily.

"Yes," she said uncertainly. "I thought it would be okay with you." Sitting down beside him, she admitted, "It was so lonely here without you that I wanted to return to the loft. But when I was about to leave, I realized - if I did, it would be like admitting that you'd never be coming back... you'd never be coming home."

"Thank you."

She knew he meant it. "Here, let me help you change," she offered uneasily, undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He caught her hand and gently pressed it to his skin, saying, "God, I missed your touch."

Wrapping her other arm around his waist, she whispered, "So did I."

"I know," he said. "I got the easy part - lying there, sleeping it off, half-sedated most of the time, surrounded by beautiful, attentive nurses."

"You always get the easy part," she teased, lowering her head onto his shoulder, careful not to graze the wounds. "By the way, one of those beautiful, attentive nurses asked me who Nurse Ratched was."

"See?" he said, grinning. "They liked me."

"I'm sure they did," she murmured, opening his shirt and kissing the exposed skin.

"I have scars now, you know," he said with a lame smile.

"Oh, yes," she murmured. "I saw your chest when they changed bandages." Feeling his shoulder stiffen under her touch, she added firmly, "You don't have scars."

"I don't?"

"No, I do. Every one of them is mine - you just wear them for me."

She didn't know a half of it, he thought, certain he'd never tell her how close she really was to the truth.

"I never thanked you for saving my life, did I?" she asked softly.

"If I hadn't, how would I have known how much you mean to me?" he asked, pulling her closer.

She looked up at him and her eyes told him she didn't understand. He knew she never would, but it didn't matter to either of them, though, as long as they were together.

The End